by Peggy Webb
Hallie reveled in the feel of his mouth on hers, then she noticed a difference. It was so subtle she almost missed it. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been so attuned to him, so much in love with him. But it was there. He was holding back. Unlike the times they’d been together in Memphis, there was a restraint in his kiss, as if he were hiding a part of himself from her.
The truth filled her with a nameless fear. Just as he had first kept his real life in Florence a secret from her, he was now keeping a part of himself secret. It was the town, she thought. Florence. There where his family life had been twisted and tangled into an ugly, misshapen creature, he couldn’t love freely. Might never love freely. The truth scared her.
He held her close, his cheek resting against her hair.
“Hallie, I. . .” He hesitated, as if what he’d been about to say astounded him. “I’ve missed you.”
She lifted his head and kissed his brow. “I’m here, Josh. I won’t go away.”
“I won’t let you.”
They embraced for a long while, not speaking, simply feeling the closeness of each other. Finally, they moved apart.
“I’m going to name this theater Jubilee.”
He smiled. “That’s an odd name for a theater. Any special reason?”
“Yes. You have filled me with a joy so great that it can only be called jubilee. I hope to bring that same kind of joy to my special children.”
“I am honored, Hallie. And humbled.”
“You are special.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “And I’m very hungry.” She smiled impishly. “For food.”
They walked down the street to Trowbridge’s for lunch. Sitting in a plastic booth at a Formica-topped table, eating sandwiches, then ice cream, they talked about Hallie’s project. Josh told her about training centers for special children in the Quad Cities, named the schools that had special education classes, told her the people she’d need to contact to get her program set up. She shared her plans with him. She envisioned her theater as an integral part of the school system and the training centers, not simply as an after-school activity. She’d concentrate on drama, but music would also be a part of her activities.
“You’ll have complete freedom with the endowment, Hallie. I don’t pretend to have any expertise in your field.”
“Our arrangement has to be strictly business, Josh.”
He smiled. “It seems to me that’s the way we started out.”
“We did. Once upon a time at Ray Hubbard Lake.” She leaned over to lick the top of his ice-cream cone. “Mmmm. I can’t resist strawberry.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
She became serious. “This is different. I can’t let our personal life influence or jeopardize this program.”
“I wouldn’t want it to, Hallie. I’ll require semiannual reports. If you like, I’ll appoint somebody from my accounting department to administer the funds, pay your salary, and keep the books.”
“You must have read my mind. Bookkeeping is not my forte.”
“I know something that is.”
She gave him a devilish grin. “In Trowbridge’s?”
“Wicked skinny-dipping angel.” He stood up and took her arm. “Let’s go look for a house.”
o0o
Hallie fell in love with the third house they visited. It was redwood and glass, rustic and welcoming, set among dogwood and redbud and oak trees. Birds chattered and sang around the birdbath just off the redwood deck in the backyard.
“It’s marvelous, Josh. How did you ever find it?”
“The owner is an old friend of Dad’s. They go back a long way. I knew that she had rental houses. When I found out you were coming, I called her.”
“Can you imagine how gorgeous it will be in the spring when the dogwoods and redbuds bloom?” She closed her eyes, threw back her head and breathed in the air. When she opened her eyes, Josh was smiling at her. “It even feels like home. Who is the owner? Can we see her today?”
“Yes. Her name is Debbie Cox, and she lives right next door.”
Debbie Cox was tall and rangy and wrinkled and as lively as a sack full of wildcats. When they walked into her yard, she looked up from her gardening, threw down her hoe, and came trotting up to them.
“Josh Butler! If you don’t look just like your daddy did.” She patted his face. “The last time I saw you was . . . let’s see . . . two or three years ago when you hosted that benefit for the American Cancer Society. When you called last night I nearly bout dropped my teeth.”
She turned her avid attention on Hallie. “You must be the friend he said was comin’. Lord, if you’re not as pretty as a speckled pup. You remind me of myself in my younger days.” She laughed at her own immodesty. “I made men’s eyes pop in those days.” She turned back to Josh. “Even Hiram’s. How’s your daddy? Folks around here never see much of him.”
“He’s healthy.”
“But still moping, huh?” She patted Josh’s face again. “Now, no need to put up a front with me. Everybody in Florence knows he’s been mullygrubbing around since Margaret’s death. It’s a damn shame, too. He used to be a fine figure of a man.”
“We came to see you about the house next door, Miss Cox,” Hallie said, wanting to change the subject for Josh’s sake.
“Lordy, just listen to you. No need to call me Miss Cox. Debbie will do. I don’t need any reminders that I’m an old maid.” She linked her arm with Hallie’s. “I bet you’d love to see the inside of that house. You’re lucky. Of all my rental property, it’s my favorite. Just came vacant last month. Folks that had it relocated to Russellville.”
Josh followed them through the hedges and across the stepping stones to the front door. Debbie reached into her bosom and drew out a key on a stout red cord. “Keeps it safe.” She winked at Josh. “Nobody’s been in there for longer than I care to remember.”
Sunshine poured through the windows into a great room on the right of the entrance hall. There was a small kitchen tucked into the corner and a fireplace in exactly the right spot for keeping cozy in the winter. Down the hall were two bedrooms and a bath. The house was furnished with wicker and brass and odds and ends of antique furniture. Hallie’s favorite room was the one with unicorn prints on the wall.
“It’s all my stuff. Papa had an antique shop. The only way I could keep everything I love is to spread it around my rental houses. You’ll have to furnish your own curtains and linens, of course.” Debbie dusted the antique frame on one of the pictures. “The unicorns kind of go with this house. I let the pictures stay for my tenants to enjoy. As long as they promise not to move off with them.”
Hallie was enchanted, both with the house and its owner. “I promise.”
“Then you’ll take the house?” Debbie beamed at her.
“Yes, I love it, but perhaps we should discuss rent first.”
Debbie waved her hand. “Pshaw! Life’s more than money.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled with interest. “Where are your dogs? Josh said you had dogs.”
Hallie laughed. “Do you mind dogs?”
“Land sakes, no. I like dogs better than some people.”
Josh could see that Hallie already had found her place in Florence. He’d never doubted for a minute that she would. It was only natural for everybody to love her. He stood still, watching her with Debbie Cox. She always seemed to be laughing. Most of all, that’s what drew him to her side— her joyful spirit.
He glanced around the sunshine filled room. It would be his haven, his getaway, his Never Never Land, just as her apartment in Memphis had been. For how long? Weeks, months, years? He shook his head. For as long as Hallie would have him on his terms. He would go to any lengths to protect her from the heartache that was an everyday part of his family life. If it meant keeping her at a distance, as hard as it was, he’d have to do so.
He turned his attention back to the two chattering women. Debbie already was inviting Hallie to her church. When he found a small opening, he stepped i
n and settled the matter of rent. Then he and Hallie watched out the window until Debbie was back across the hedge in her own yard.
“This house is perfect. I’m so glad you found it for me.”
“So am I.”
They looked at each other. Hallie smiled.
“But there are no curtains, Josh.” Her husky midnight voice sent shivers up his spine.
“Just say the word, and we’ll go and buy some now.”
“Yes.”
o0o
Hallie quickly made Florence her home. As Josh had predicted, everybody liked her. Boys at the grocery store vied to see who would carry her bags to the car. Bank clerks smiled when they saw her coming. From experience they’d learned they would have to help her untangle her meager financial affairs. She always rewarded them with extravagant praise and whatever she could pull out of her jeans pocket—usually hard candies, jawbreakers. She favored two kinds, strawberry and melon. Sometimes she had a crumpled bag of corn chips which she shared.
The choir director of the little church she chose to attend discovered she had a lusty singing voice which she enjoyed using. He promptly put her in the choir, much to Debbie’s delight. She had introduced Hallie to the church, so she took full credit.
One Sunday night Hallie nearly broke up the congregation when she forgot to pull off her Stetson. Debbie thought that was funny, too. She told the story so many times, inventing as she went, that her story finally had Hallie standing in the pulpit preaching in her Stetson.
Josh is the one who got Debbie’s final version of the story. Debbie met him at the hedge one Friday night to tell him.
“Is it true, Hallie?” he asked her later.
She just laughed.
“You’ve cut quite a swath in Florence, my wicked angel. Everybody is speculating about you.”
She strode toward him, wearing nothing except a smile and her now-famous Stetson.
“What are they saying?”
“That you’re more exciting than the high wire act at the circus. That you’re a retired rodeo queen. That you’re the woman who has stolen my heart.”
“And what are you saying?” She wanted to add, my love, but she knew it was too soon.
“That I have no heart.” He wanted to say, that it’s true, but he dared not.
She parted his shirt and pressed her lips over his heart. “Nonsense. You have one. And I intend to prove it.”
He pulled her down and pinned her beneath him on the sofa. “How?”
“I’ll think of something.”
He brushed his lips against her throat. “When?”
“Later,” she whispered.
o0o
It took Hallie six weeks to set up her theater program. She divided her special children into four separate troupes. The children were bused from the schools and training centers to her theater.
At the end of each day, she was happily exhausted, but not too exhausted for Josh. Often he met her at the theater. Occasionally she would meet him at his office. Usually, though, he came to her rented house on Cypress Mill Road.
Nothing changed between them. Even though she was in Florence, she was as separate from his family life as she always had been. He’d never even invited her to his house. Once, when she’d asked, he’d driven by and pointed it out to her, a gorgeous Greek revival house within walking distance from her theater.
Family had always been important to Hallie. More and more she realized that she would never be satisfied merely being Josh’s lover. He was unfailingly considerate, kind, generous and passionate. But he always held a part of himself in reserve. She felt her dreams gradually slipping away, and Josh with them.
Gentle persuasion was not working.
o0o
On a morning in late September, sitting at her kitchen table, looking out the window at the birds which flocked to her feeders, she made up her mind that she’d have to try something more drastic. She didn’t know what it was going to be, but she was confident she’d think of something. A Donovan never gave up.
Taking a felt tip pen she scrawled on her calendar, Something More Drastic. Then she circled the date in red. She considered red a good omen. After all, she’d been wearing red when Josh first saw her.
Whistling to her dogs, she walked out the front door. Wolfgang and Ludwig always went to the theater with her. Besides being natural hams, they were good with the children. Gentle and long suffering, they allowed themselves to be endlessly patted and admired and played with. Hallie had discovered early that her dogs served to break communication barriers. Children too shy to talk to her would talk readily to her pets. She’d speak with the dogs’ voices, using the same technique teachers often did with puppets.
As she crossed her front yard, she waved at Debbie, who was dressed in baggy slacks and sweater, digging in her roses.
Hallie’s car wouldn’t start. After years of faithful service, the old Cadillac finally balked. She jiggled the key in the ignition.
“Come on. Crank.” She patted the accelerator. Still, there was no response.
She got out of her car and looked under the hood. Not that it would do her any good. Her mechanical ability was on par with her bookkeeping. But that’s always what people with car trouble did, so she decided to try it.
“Having trouble?” Debbie had walked up and was standing slightly behind her, a hoe still in her hand.
“I certainly am, but I can’t seem to figure out what it is.”
Debbie laughed and brandished her hoe. “If it could be fixed with this, I’d help you. I know as much about cars as I do about the spawning habits of salmon. Zero.” She propped the hoe on the fender of the Cadillac and pulled off her gloves. “I guess you’re headed to the theater.”
“Yes. It looks as though I’ll have to call a taxi.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been wanting to see what you do ever since you told me about it. I’ll drive you over.”
“That’s wonderful. Thanks.” She opened the car door for her dogs. “You’re sure you have time.”
“Have time! Lord ‘a mercy. I’ve never known a rosebush yet that couldn’t survive a little neglect. Same thing goes for pot roast and soap operas.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out lipstick and painted a bright gash of red across her lips. “What you see, Hallie, is a woman who needs to be needed. My chariot awaits.” She raked her hand through her gray fluff of curls and swept grandly across the yard with Hallie and the dogs following.
Debbie’s car was an ancient Buick. It was so old, Hallie couldn’t even guess the year it was made. She figured it was seldom used, for she’d never seen Debbie drive it.
“Hold onto your hat!” Debbie revved the engine. The old car coughed, then backed out of the garage in a series of spurts and jumps.
Hallie got her first suspicions. “I’ll drive if you want me to, Debbie.”
“Nonsense. My sister Pet usually comes by to get me for errands and such, but I can drive. A body never forgets these things.” Gravel spewed up behind her, and she narrowly missed the mailbox as she spun out onto the road.
Debbie roared down the road. The back of a UPS van seemed to be coming up at them. “The van’s turning off, Debbie.”
“I see!” Brakes squawked. The ancient Buick weaved to the left, barely missed the back fender of the van, fishtailed, then straightened back on course. In the backseat the dogs howled.
“Lord! That’s exciting. Takes me back to the days of my youth.”
It reminds me of riding the bulls.” Hallie chuckled. “I haven’t had this much excitement since I came to Florence.”
“You’ve been going to the wrong place.” Debbie squashed the horn in a series of joyful toots as she passed a milk truck. She was doing at least sixty in a thirty-mile zone.
Hallie figured they’d be arrested any minute now. She’d call Josh to get them out of jail. He’d once told her not to become stodgy. Nothing stodgy about this ride! she thought and she laughed aloud.
“Something funny, Hall
ie?”
“No. I was just thinking what fun it is to be wicked. I haven’t been wicked in so long, I’d almost forgotten how.”
“I haven’t been either. But I’ll tell you what. I was wicked in my day. Would be again if Hiram Butler would come out of his blue funk and pay me some notice.”
The car had slowed to a more sedate pace, so Hallie was able to put her mind on the conversation rather than on ways to survive a car crash and/or jail.
“You knew Hiram Butler?”
“Very well. We were lovers.” The old car swerved right and mowed down the daylilies Kathleen Helms had planted too close to the road. “That was before he met Margaret, of course. She swooped into Alabama on a puff of perfume, and he never looked twice at me again.”
“Did you keep up with him?”
“I sure did. When he jilted me, it practically broke my heart. I’ve never cared for another man since. I’ve been chased by a few, but never cared for them.” She hit a rough spot in the road, going so hard their teeth rattled. Then she was talking again. “I know everything that has happened to Hiram Butler and his family, including the way Josh takes care of them all. He spends money on them—Lord knows he’s got it to spend. But he takes time with them, too, driving Hiram to the country club once a week, hoping he’ll take an interest in golf again, taking him and George to social events, watching like a hawk to see that his brother doesn’t drink too much, looking out for Hiram as if he were the daddy and Hiram the child. That’s too much for a young man like him. If you ask me, all Hiram needs is to get his mind off the dead and onto the living.”
“Why haven’t you done something about it?”
“Men like to do the chasing. That’s a rule as old as Adam. Remember it, Hallie.”
Hallie was silent, thinking. In the last twenty minutes she’d learned more about Josh’s family than she’d learned since she’d met him. And she didn’t feel as if she were snooping. Quite the contrary, she felt exhilarated as she always did when an idea was taking hold in her mind.
o0o
By the grace of God and the generosity of the Florence police, they made it to the theater in one piece. They’d been stopped on the corner of North Court and Irvine Avenue. After delivering a lecture on reckless driving and speeding, the policeman’s heart had softened, and he’d provided escort to the theater.
